“You know that animals do not sleep in our castle?” he replied.
Gwen frowned, annoyed.
“Your father had no qualms.”
“My father does not enforce the rules,” he replied. “I do. And the King’s guard is under my command.”
She frowned, frustrated.
“Is that why you’ve stopped me here?” she asked, annoyed. “To enforce animal control?”
He frowned back, realizing, perhaps, that he’d met his match. He stared at her, his eyes locking on hers, as if summing her up.
“There is not a woman in the Ridge who does not long for me,” he said. “And yet I see no passion in your eyes.”
Gwen gaped at him, horrified, as she finally realized what this was all about.
“Passion?” she repeated, mortified. “And why would I? I am married, and the love of my life will soon return to my side.”
Mardig laughed aloud.
“Is that so?” he asked. “From what I hear, he is long dead. Or so far lost to you, he will never return.”
Gwendolyn scowled, her anger mounting.
“And even if he should never return,” she said, “I would never be with another. And certainly not you.”
His expression darkened.
She turned to go, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. Krohn snarled.
“I don’t ask for what I want here,” he said. “I take it. You are in a foreign kingdom, at the mercy of a foreign host. It would best be wise for you to oblige your captors. After all, without our hospitality, you will be cast into the waste. And there are a great many unfortunate circumstances which can accidentally befall a guest—even with the most well-intentioned of hosts.”
She scowled, having seen too many real threats in her life to be afraid of his petty warnings.
“Captors?” she said. “Is that what you call us? I am a free woman, in case you haven’t noticed. I can leave here right now if I choose.”
He laughed, an ugly sound.
“And where would you go? Back into the Waste?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“You might be technically free to go,” he added. “But let me ask you: when the world is a hostile place, where does that leave you?”
Krohn snarled viciously, and Gwen could feel him ready to pounce. She shook Mardgi’s hand off of her arm indignantly, and reached down and laid a hand on Krohn’s head, holding him back. And then, as she glared back at Mardig, she had a sudden insight.
“Tell me something, Mardig,” she said, her voice hard and cold. “Why is it you are not out there, fighting with your brothers in the desert? Why is it that you are the only one who remains behind? Is it fear that drives you?”
He smiled, but beneath his smile she could sense cowardice.
“Chivalry is for fools,” he replied. “Convenient fools, that pave the way for the rest of us to have whatever we want. Dangle the term ‘chivalry,’ and they can be used like puppets. I myself cannot be used so easily.”
She looked at him, disgusted.
“My husband and our Silver would laugh at a man like you,” she said. “You wouldn’t last two minutes in the Ring.”
Gwen looked from him to the entrance he was blocking.
“You have two choices,” she said. “You can move out of my way, or Krohn here can have the breakfast he so heartily desires. I think you are about the perfect size.”
He glanced down at Krohn, and she saw his lip quiver. He stepped aside.
But she did not go just yet. Instead, she stepped up, close to him, sneering, wanting to have her point made.
“You might be in command of your little castle,” she snarled darkly, “but do not forget that you speak to a Queen. A free Queen. I will never answer to you, never answer to anyone else as long as I live. I am through with that. And that makes me very dangerous—far more dangerous than you.”
The Prince stared back, and to her surprise, he smiled.
“I like you, Queen Gwendolyn,” he replied. “Much more than I thought.”
Gwendolyn, heart pounding, watched him turn and walk away, slithering back into the blackness, disappearing down the corridor. As his footsteps echoed and faded away, she wondered: what dangers lurked in this court?
CHAPTER THREE
Kendrick charged across the arid desert landscape, Brandt and Atme by his side, his half-dozen Silver beside them, all that remained of the brotherhood of the Ring, riding together like old times. As they rode, venturing out deeper and deeper into the Great Waste, Kendrick felt weighed down by nostalgia and sadness; it made him remember his heyday in the Ring, surrounded by Silver, by brothers in arms, riding out into battle, alongside thousands of men. He had ridden with the finest knights the kingdom had to offer, each a greater warrior than the next, and everywhere he had ridden, trumpets had sounded and villagers had rushed out to greet him. He and his men had been welcome everywhere, and they had always stayed up late into the night, recounting stories of battle, of valor, of skirmishes with monsters that emerged from the canyon—or worse, from beyond the wild.
Kendrick blinked, dust in his eyes, snapping out of it. He was in a different time now, a different place. He looked over and saw the eight men of the Silver, and expected to see thousands more alongside them. But reality slowly sank in, as he realized the eight of them were all of what was left, and he realized how much had changed. Would those days of glory ever be restored?
Kendrick’s idea of what made a warrior had shifted over the years, and these days, he found himself feeling that what made a warrior was not only skill and honor—but perseverance. The ability to go on. Life had a way of showering you with so many obstacles, calamities, tragedies, losses—and most of all, so much change; he had lost more friends than he could count, and the King he had lived his life for no longer even lived. His very homeland had disappeared. And yet still, he went on, even when he didn’t know what for. He was searching for it, he knew. And it was that ability to go on, perhaps most of all, that made a warrior, that made a man stand the test of time when so many others fell away. It was what separated true warriors from fleeting ones.
“SAND WALL AHEAD!” shouted a voice.
It was a foreign voice, one that Kendrick was still getting used to, and he looked over to see Koldo, the King’s eldest son, his black skin standing out amongst the group, leading the pack of soldiers from the Ridge. In the brief time Kendrick had known him, he had already come to respect Koldo, watching the way he led his men, and the way they looked up to him. He was a knight whom Kendrick was proud to ride beside.